Owen, again, was a very different boy. His merit was a ceaseless
diligence, in which it was doubtful whether ambition or
conscientiousness had the greatest share. Reserved and thoughtful,
unfitted for or indifferent to most games, he was anything but a
favorite with the rest, and Eric rather respected than liked him. When
he first came, he had been one of the most natural butts for Barker's
craving ill-nature, and for a time he had been tremendously bullied. But
gradually his mental superiority asserted itself. He took everything
without tears and without passion, and this diminished the pleasure of
annoying him. One day when Barker had given him an unprovoked kick, he
quietly said,

"Barker, next time you do that, I'll tell Mr. Gordon."

"Sneak! do it if you dare." And he kicked him again; but the moment
after he was sorry for it, for there was a dark look in Owen's eyes, as
he turned instantly into the door of the master's room, and laid a
formal complaint against Barker for bullying.

Mr. Gordon didn't like "telling," and he said so to Owen, without
reserve. An ordinary boy would have broken into a flood of explanations
and palliations, but Owen simply bowed, and said nothing. "He stood
there for justice," and he had counted the cost. Strong-minded and
clear-headed, he calculated correctly that the momentary dislike of his
schoolfellows, with whom he well knew that he never could be popular,
would be less unbearable than Barker's villanous insults. The
consequence was that Barker was caned soundly, although, with some
injustice, Mr. Gordon made no attempt to conceal that he did it
unwillingly.